


cause nobody wants to go it on their own and everyone wants to know they're not alone

by notthebigspoon



Series: Amaryllis [34]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brandon is awkward and Brad is insecure. Sometimes, Brandon thinks, it's a miracle they've made it as far as they have.</p><p>Title taken from Gotta Be Somebody by Nickelback.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cause nobody wants to go it on their own and everyone wants to know they're not alone

“Penny, you're freaking out over nothing. I got nailed, it happens.”

“How can you be so calm about this?!”

“Easy. I'm not a pitcher.” Brandon sighs, shaking his head. He's pissed off and his side is aching miserably. The day had started great, trailing after the Outfielders'n'Ryan at the zoo, but it met a shitty end. Brad's mother henning doesn't help.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You're all crazy.”

Brad doesn't bother arguing his logic, something that pleases Brandon because the guy is being enough of a pain in the ass already. He takes the cold packs he'd been given before leaving the park and cracks them, shaking until they start to chill. He has his shirt off and he's craning his head, trying to see how he's going to make this work when Brad makes a discontented noise.

“Just... just c'mere and sit down.” Brad mutters. He's been perched on the bed for the conversation. He thumps the bed with one large hand, pulling Brad down to sit between his legs. Brandon oofs as he's pushed and pulled, maneuvered into something that apparently makes sense to Brad. The pitcher snags a discarded t-shirt and folds it, placing it on his own stomach before wedging the cold pack between them, up against Brandon's bruise.

The position is surprisingly comfortable.

“How's that? Better?”

“I will no longer doubt you, old man.”

“Don't call me that. Like I don't feel like enough of a perv already.”

“Mm, fine. Sensitive.”

It's true. Brad is, in Brandon's mind at least, ridiculously sensitive about their age difference, acts like it's a hundred years instead of just ten. And maybe there are some things about them that are just plain different. Maybe some of their cultural references show that. But sometimes it's led to bonding experiences. After reciting the moose line with Zito one too many times, Brad had caved and finally asked what the hell they were talking about.

In retaliation for Brandon having him sit through The Princess Diaries, Brad had made Brandon sit through the Pink Panther Strikes Again. It was actually pretty funny. Any time he sees one of the guys with a dog, he asks if their dog bites, french accent and all.

If people didn't think he was about ten degrees off cool to begin with, that's started clinching it. That and his and Zito's tendency, when they see Pence, to go “HWAHHHHH!” at the top of their lungs.

It's a little sad, really, the way Brad seems to live life looking over his shoulder. The guy is always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even today, with Ryder climbing him like a tree to hang onto his neck while they looked at chimps, he'd look at the little boy and his fellow players with a pleasantly surprised smile, like it was still a shock that people wanted him around.

“You're kind of stupid sometimes.”

“Yeah?” Brad asks, grumpy as he channel surfs. “How's that?”

“People like you. They want to be around you and they trust you with their kids and yet you're always waiting for them to change their minds. Did your life really suck that much before you came to San Francisco?”

“Yes.” Brad says, flatly but then he gives a resigned sigh and kisses the top of Brandon's head, rubbing his back. Brandon absolutely does not purr. “Things can go wrong and they do go wrong. Look at now... down with the shoulder and who knows if they let me back up? They could send me to Fresno. Or release me entirely. S'baseball. It sucks but that's how things work. Difference between me and most guys is I've made peace with it.”

“No. I know what your real problem is. Your problem is that you're so used to life shitting on you that you don't know what to do with a good thing when you have it.”

“And your solution to that?”

“Easy.” Brandon mutters, tossing the cold pack aside. He shifts, wincing at the way his side aches as he moves. He settles so they're chest to chest, leaning in for a kiss. “Stop fucking worrying and enjoy the fact that you've found someone who puts up with your neurosis.”

To his surprise, Brad doesn't argue, just smiles and kisses him, rolling their bodies so he's on top. “Brat. What am I gonna do with you?”

“Not sure, but you can start with undressing me.”


End file.
